


The Truth of it is...

by GE Buchanan (GracieForeth)



Series: BlackFalcon [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:25:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieForeth/pseuds/GE%20Buchanan





	

It was a rare occasion for the team to be out of tower and enjoying themselves elsewhere. Tonight was one of those rarities as the team met out at a local bar for drinks. Tony was busy shooting darts with Rhodey. Thor became fascinated by the jukebox in the corner, trying to find something he would be interested in. Bruce and Wanda were shooting pool, the former teaching the latter the game. Vision opted to stay at home, and Sam sat at the bar with Steve swapping stories about being in the army.

Sam took swig from the beer bottle he was holding and nodded at what Steve was saying, only half listening. He was too busy looking at the redhead that just entered the bar with Barton. He hasn’t seen Natasha in months since she left to go on a solo mission for God knows what and where. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find out what her mission was, or how she was doing.

“Sam?” Steve asked quizzically, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. His brow was furrowed and his face had a look of concern on his face. “Did you hear me?”

“Nah, sorry man,” Sam apologized, forcing his attention on his friend. “I just saw that Natasha is back.”

Steve smirked at him and took a drink of his own beer and shook his head. “Why don’t you ask her out already. She doesn’t bite,” he quipped.

Sam chuckled and followed suit with his own beer. “I know Cap. But ain’t she with Banner?” His eyes flickered back to the redhead to get a full take on what she was wearing: a knee-length burgundy and black dress, a cropped and fitted leather jacket and matching pumps. Her red hair that was one of his favorite things about her, and the reason why he called her Red.

“Go,” Steve said, nudging his arm. Sam got up and started towards her. Barton went and joined Tony and Rhodes for darts and she stayed by the pool table, talking with Wanda. He reached her finally, a smile tugging his lips and he greeted her.

“Hey, Red.”

“Sam?” she asked, as she spun around to come face to face with him, her smile widened, a rarity that happened. She brushed her her hand down his forearm as her green eyes connected with his, sending a shiver down his spine.

They spent the next few hours catching up on what she had missed out on while she was gone over drinks. Stark getting into trouble with Pepper on how many suits he was making (again). Nathaniel walking and rest of the team kids visiting the Barton farm. Steve dating again.

Sam missed her laugh and smile, and he didn’t realize how much he did, until she had a permanent one on her her face. It made his stomach flutter and he found himself smiling as well. Her hand occasionally would touch his forearm or thigh as they sat at the bar continuing to catch up.

“So, have you found anyone while I was gone?” Natasha asked, taking a sip of her martini, her green eyes shone with something Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Me? Nah. You know me Red,” he chuckled, “it’s hard to find someone with a shared life experience.”

Natasha snorted and shook her head. “You sound just like Rogers,” she hiccuped, causing her hand to fly to her mouth and a giggle followed. Sam loved seeing this side of her, the part she keeps hidden from nearly everyone on the team, and it only shows when she’s had enough to drink.

“Hey Sam, let’s dance! It’s been forever since we’ve danced together,” she exclaimed, giving him a big smile as she grabbed his hand and led him to the opening of the floor. “Hey Thor, could you put something on?” she asked the blonde god who obliged and put on a mid-tempo song. Natasha started to dance next to Sam as the music played, neither one making a move to touch the other, but the distance between the two was minuscule.

The rest of the night went just like that. Sam was having a great time hanging out with Natasha again. They did a few shooters, danced a bit more, and talked with the others, but mostly with each other. Finally, the bartender called for closing, and they were still talking about random missions they have been on, stories they both have heard several times, but neither one was ready to call it a night.

“Are you still bunking with Rogers?” Natasha slurred slightly as the lights came up on full blast and the music stopped. She pushed a stray red strand behind her ear, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and dancing.

“Yeah, why?” Sam asked as he signed the white slip in front of him then putting his card in his wallet.

“C'mon,” she whispered excitedly. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the bar to the street, hailed a cab and got in, beckoning Sam to follow her. He let out a sigh and got in next to her and he was taken aback when she told the cabbie her address, only knowing it from reading her file when he first joined the Avengers. “What?” she asked nonchalantly, her green eyes twinkled with what he thought was mischief.

“Nothing,” he answered and he smiled a little when her delicate, yet deadly, hand found its way into his, her fingers intertwined with his. They sat in silence as the cab made its way to her apartment. When they reached the destination, Sam moved to pay the cabbie, but Natasha beat him to it, and paid the driver and got out with Sam followed suit.

Grabbing his hand, she led him to her apartment. She managed to unlock the door with ease, despite on the intake of alcohol she had. Once inside, Sam finally got to see a part of her he was dying to see. He saw paintings all around the apartment.

“That one is a Galakhov,” she nodded towards the painting on the wall by the coat rack. “It’s called _July on the Volga River_. One of my favorites by him.” She took off her jacket and hung it up on the coat rack and continued into the room. “That one,” she pointed to a painting over the fireplace in the living area, “is Levitan’s _Birch Forest_. And I have an Aivazovsky in my bedroom called _Storm_.” A smile was plastered on her face as she took off her heels, settling down on the couch.

Sam made his way over, sitting down next to her, his arm went behind her head to rest on the back of the couch. “I didn’t know you had a hobby,” he breathed out, looking at her.

“Well,” she said, “most are Russian artists. Just to remind me that some things that come out of Russia are good.” Her smile faltered and it tugged at Sam’s heart when she looked at him, her smile dimmed from her thinking of some thought she wasn’t going to share.

He cursed himself for showing interest in something that would dim her happiness. He found his hand resting on her cheek, his thumb softly stroking the apple of her cheek, eyes searching hers. Before he could think twice, he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, he blushed. “Sorry Red, I shouldn’t have –” but he wasn’t able to finish his thought as Natasha’s lips crashed into his in a heated kiss, Natasha clearly dominating as she climbed into his lap.

Her cool fingers worked the buttons of his charcoal dress shirt as her lips peppered kisses across his jaw and her hips gyrated against him, causing a moan to escape his lips. “Red,” he groaned as she sucked on his sweet spot by his ear. “We shouldn’t. We’ve been drinking –” and he was silenced for a second time with her lips to his, drowning out all voice of reason.

Natasha pulled away slightly breathless, chest heaving and her eyes fixated on his. “Wilson, I want this. _You_ want this,” she whispered, as she ground down into his lap, causing his hands to grip her hips, pulling her down harder against him.

“Fine,” he growled, his eyes refusing to leave hers, “but let’s take this into your bedroom. I wanna see that Aivazovsky afterward.”

A smirk formed on her lips as Sam adjusted his grip on her as he stood up from the couch. “Door to the right of the fireplace,” she whispered into his ear before took the lobe in between her teeth in a light nip.


End file.
